Chocophobia
by LatteJazz
Summary: Betcha didn't know young Cloud was afraid of chocobos...xD


**//[Here is the product of too many Christmas brownies and sparkling cider . . . Yum. I ought to do that more often! xD Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this and this isn't a polished copy but I hope it brings a smile to your face . . . at least once!]\\ **

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"There's a giant chicken outside."

Bright blue eyes peered eagerly through a frosted window pane, absorbed in the scene taking place past the cold glass. A flurry of blond spikes partially hid the captivated, childish face behind them. Tiny fingers reached up to wipe the gathering fog off the glass in order to see more clearly.

"_Three_ giant chickens!" the little voice repeated, spellbound.

Across the room, the sound of clanging dishes paused for a moment, and a woman joined the child at the window.

"See?" A delicate finger touched the chilled glass in explanation.

The woman smiled knowingly. "Those aren't chickens, Cloud. They're chocobos. We don't see them around here. But they do look like big chickens, don't they?" She wiped a large section of precipitation from the window, surveying the streets outside.

"Big chickens," Cloud repeated stubbornly.

His mother shook her head, smiling a little, and left the window.

Despite the comfortable warmth and security of his house, the boy's curiosity tempted him elsewhere. Quietly, he stepped down from the stool he had been standing on and edged toward the door. It loomed far above him, the old metal knob just within reach. He stole a glance back at his mother—still occupied with the dishes—then made his escape.

Outside, the wide world was made of melting whites and browns. Wooden, cozy mountain houses snuggled closely together in a circle formation, as if sheltering one another from the cold autumn winds. Smoke wafted from brick chimneys; and tiny snowflakes drifted lazily from the pale grey sky. The ground, which was usually clothed in a layer of dirt and pebbles, had exchanged its attire for a delicate layer of snow.

The inhabitants of the small town did not seem to notice. They bustled about the shops and buildings, chattering excitedly and sometimes pointing. If anything notable ever happened in Nibelheim—and seldom did anything ever happen—one could be certain to hear about it in front of the town inn. And that was where most of the town's citizens were gathered now, though several mulled under the eaves of various buildings. The giant chickens were tethered to a post to the side of the inn, neglected. Something more important must have captured the peoples' attention for now—they loitered about the inn's doors.

Wanting a closer look, the boy cut across the snowy clearing to the edge of the huddled adults. Their prattle took on distinct words, and Cloud felt the atmosphere pulse with excitement.

"...Do you think the inspection will pass?" one man asked another.

"Well, there's gotta be some potential; otherwise Shinra wouldn't waste its time here."

Cloud ducked unnoticed into a forest of bland coats and boots, wanting a glimpse of whatever the villagers were discussing. Additional snatches of conversation reached his ears in fragments.

"…Electricity, here? That's unheard of!"

"Power to the entire village…"

"…the mountain ridge up north…"

Pausing to get his bearings in the crowd of people, he found himself beneath the inn's window. The sill was too high to look through, and several people stood in front of it. He tried pushing himself up onto the tips of his toes, stretching as much as possible, yet still could not look through. Still resolved, he leaned against the wall and waited.

A woman next to him shifted her weight, keenly engaged in conversation. "…They say the director himself is here for the inspection—did you see him?"

"No, did you?"

"I was too busy watching the soldiers."

Suddenly the bustling atmosphere was subdued a moment, and the crowd pressed eagerly about in various directions; heads turned toward the inn door. Cloud strained to see past the excited throng, wishing simultaneously that he was taller. Miffed, he turned back and twisted out of the crowd into the open air—and right into Tifa Lockheart.

"Whoah!" he exclaimed, almost knocking her over.

She staggered sideways, surprised by the sudden collision, but regained her balance. "What's happening? I can't see anything!"

"Me neither," he answered. Then he quickly scanned the clearing, searching for the threesome that constantly accompanied Tifa. Oddly enough, they were nowhere to be seen. "Where's your friends?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Not here."

She met his curious glance with a slight smile, a wisp of jet-black hair falling across her face. Cloud fidgeted, feeling a faint flush creep into his face. Then something caught her dark eyes and she looked up.

"Look!" she squealed abruptly, pointing past him.

He turned and saw what the crowd had been in a hubbub about—a group of four tall, robust men were making their way across the snow-covered clearing. They sported a tough, fortified array of boots, belts, armor, and even weapons. An enormous flat sword slung across one of the soldier's backs was the most impressive; it was almost as tall as the soldier was and certainly taller than Cloud himself. The soldiers themselves seemed light-hearted and jocular, flippantly addressing one another. One of the taller ones, with short silver hair and a slightly more serious face, rolled his eyes as the rest of the soldiers burst into laughter.

Cloud was startled to see an important-looking man following them—_on a giant chicken_. As the curious procession passed fairly close to them, Cloud could observe the intriguing mutant chickens more closely. And, almost immediately, he realized how dangerous his fascination with them was.

They were horrifying creatures. Their spindly legs were as tall as him, and their crooked feet were spiked with razor-sharp claws so long they could easily skewer him. Golden feathers sprouted from every direction on their bodies like jagged arrows. So massive were their boulder-like bodies that a grown man could sit upon them. Perhaps most terrifying were their astute faces. Unlike chickens, they possessed a human intelligence—Cloud could see it from the wicked glint in their beady black eyes—that seemed particularly cruel and shrewd. And their sharp, steel-proof beaks were as big as Tifa's head!—Cloud stepped in front of her protectively. Attentively watching the proceeding convoy, she didn't seem to notice.

A loud, harsh voice barked and the soldiers moved into line formation. The group continued across the clearing toward a trail at the edge of town. Having lived in Nibelheim eight years, Cloud knew where the path led: up to the top of the mountain ridge. Rumor had it that the pass was haunted; he had never followed it far enough to see if the rumor was true or not. He wondered what the outsiders wanted up there as they disappeared around a wooded bend.

Devoid of their source of entertainment, the crowd gradually broke apart, still chattering as they scattered.

"They're so brave!" Tifa marveled, awestricken.

"It's not really haunted," he disparaged, turning around.

"But they're fighting soldiers," she insisted. She was fiddling with a fold of her blue dress enthusiastically. "They're so _brave_. And some of them were riding giant birds!"

That's what she was so impressed by?

"I could do that," he boasted.

Her face was a gleeful smile. "No, you couldn't."

"Yeah, I could."

"Couldn't!"

"Could!" he repeated, wanting to poke her.

"Then prove it!"

_Uh-oh._

He floundered for a legitimate way out of the hole he had dug himself into. "They left already, see?" He pointed up the trail.

"No," she answered, a playful gleam in her eyes. "Look over there."

With a sinking feeling, he followed her gaze across the clearing to the side of the inn. Sure enough, there stood two of the vindictive beasts tied to a post. How could he have overlooked them? _Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"But I can't…someone would see me," he protested.

He felt her assessing gaze boring a fiery hole into his face. "You're just too scared."

That did it. If there was any single person in the entire world that Cloud couldn't bear to have thinking of him as a coward the rest of his life, it was Tifa. He clenched his jaws and marched resolutely to the post. The demon-birds eyed him suspiciously—and hungrily, too, no doubt. He stifled the urge to run.

"Cloud! What are you doing?"

He didn't glance back at the sound of his name. _What does it look like I'm doing_? Apparently, he realized smugly, she hadn't really expected him to do it. Neither had he. Well, if he died it was her fault since he was doing this for her.

Now that he stood so close to the beastly things, he realized how much bigger they were. He doubted he could reach the lowest of their golden feathers if he tried to climb on. Wouldn't that be a convenient excuse?

The birds seemed all too aware of his intentions, and they surveyed him with gleaming, flint eyes. One cocked its head sideways to see him more clearly. Cloud was surprised it didn't swipe a forked tongue across its beak. Resisting a shudder, he took a deep breath—maybe his last—and approached the smaller of the beasts.

Palms out in front of him as a token of peace, he kept his gaze fixed up on the monster's head as he sidled up to it. He did his best to ignore its talons, and searched for a means of climbing up it. There—he spied a leather stirrup nestled in its feathers.

"I was just kidding, Cloud!" The words were drowned out by the thrumming of his pulse in his ears. _Too late, Tifa._ He reached for the stirrup—

_KWEEEEEH!_

--and almost jumped out of his boots when the bird emitted a thunderous screech. Though muffled slightly due to the muzzle, it was still loud enough to startle Cloud out of his skull. He froze for a long moment, eyes tightly shut, waiting for an imminent death-blow.

But none came.

He exhaled nervously and opened his eyes. Was Tifa watching all this? It was difficult to see her amongst the sea of golden feathers surrounding him.

Shakily, he stretched out a hand and grabbed the stirrup. With the other hand, he clasped the rope attaching it to the saddle above. The only thing left to do was haul himself up inch by inch. After toiling about this task for several moments, he was rewarded when the top of the saddle came into view. He flung out one hand and gripped it, then swung a leg over the other side. Adrenaline still pumping, he cautiously sat up.

He had done it! He had scaled the enormous chicken and succeeded in remaining alive. Beaming with pride and accomplishment, he leaned back with more confidence and took in the view: in front of him was the chicken's head and neck, higher than his own. Several ropes led from its head to the saddle; he took them in his hands (that's what he had seen the soldiers do). Because his legs were too short to reach the stirrups, he wrapped them tightly about the side of the chicken.

The world was so much bigger up here. He could see into windows and onto roofs and even the tops of several trees. The snowflakes were closer. Tifa stood a ways beneath him, bouncing up and down with delight and she clapped her hands excitedly. The wide smile on her face was contagious; Cloud found it spreading across his own.

"Make it walk around!" Tifa shouted, unable to contain her enthusiasm.

He searched for something to make the thing move. He pulled the ropes, tapped the saddle, patted its back, even gently tugged a handful of feathers, but nothing seemed to make the bird respond.

Tifa had a suggestion. "Kick it!"

He did. And the chicken lurched forward several feet, then halted. The sudden movement prompted Cloud to instinctively throw his hands out; he grabbed hold of its neck and clung tightly. Encouraged by Tifa's giggling, he kicked the bird again, which resulted in the same effect. So he kicked it again, this time harder. A _lot_ harder.

Suddenly the wind was rushing past his face and through his air, and the world was a blur. He was flying rapidly through the air like a bullet, with nothing to stop himself. He clenched a fistful of feathers, terrified…yet surprisingly exhilarated. The birds wings beat steadily as it careened forward at a breakneck pace. He would have shut his eyes had a realization not come to mind: this crazy, wildly dangerous ride was actually…_fun._

The wind stole from his breath what would have been a giddy laugh. Daring to lift his head and look up, he saw that they were tearing past buildings and people. Blurred snowflakes flew into his face; and he heard yelping as several people dodged the haphazard streak of feathers. The breath-taking velocity made him want to raise his arms and embrace the thrill.

He was so enveloped with the ecstasy and exhilaration of it all that he failed to see a soldier leap in front of the bird's path, arms outstretched to ensnare the escaped chicken. The bird, who had also failed to see the soldier, lurched to an unexpected halt, sending the rider sailing from its back and through the air.

_Ngh._ Cloud gasped for breath, unable to breath or move. He lay flat on his back, and found himself staring up into the grey sky. Instead of snowflakes, miniscule golden feathers floated through the air.

"Pfft." He spat a feather from his mouth when his breath finally returned.

Tifa's familiar face popped into view, eyes as wide as saucers. "That was _amazing_!" she said incredulously. "Are you okay?"

He sat up, dizzy. "Does this make me 'brave'?"

A smile lit up her face. "I--"

"_CLOUD…TIDUS…STRIFE!"_

_Oh, great_. "I have to go."

"Get back here _right this moment! _You are in deep trouble, young man!" His mother was hurrying toward him, her face a distorted expression of anxiety, fury, shock, and righteous maternal indignation all melted into one. As Cloud got to his feet, he couldn't help feeling quite pleased with himself, despite his mother's impending wrath.

"Bye!" Tifa was still grinning, impressed (or so he fervently hoped). He waved goodbye to her with one hand as his furious mother grabbed the other and dragged him toward the house.

"Mom…those are nice chickens," he informed his mother innocently. He sensed her rage, but it did not alarm him, surprisingly. Instead of bowing his head and assuming the role of the chastened, repentant child, he glanced back at Tifa. A wide grin slipped across his glowing face.


End file.
